Quenching Thirst (ON HIATUS)
by Celestial Element
Summary: It happened in a moment to Annabeth. All she saw was when Tartarus appeared, Percy dropped his sword. But was it just a moment? That place changes you. Can you stay the same after something like that? SerialKiller!Percy Dark!Percy CONTAINS PERCABETH, OCD, TORTURE, MURDER, SWEARING AND MATURE SITUATIONS. IT WILL BE A WHILE BEFORE I UPDATE IT AGAIN. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.


**I am warning you. This story contains disturbing content like psychopathic behaviour, graphic torture, murder and some adult situations. Read ahead at your own risk.**

**The characters will be OOC. But there will be character development to make them that way (sort of?)**

**Now, on with the story:**

**The Psychopath becomes not only the tormentor but also the person who brings relief from the torment.**

**~ Victims and Survivors of Psychopaths**

The warehouse seemed like the perfect place to keep in a kidnapped person.

Secluded and alone at the edge of a forest, miles away from civilisation. It was only by chance that I came across this place, when I was being chased by a couple hell hounds. It was the sound of a nearby creek that drew me here.

I opened the doors to the warehouse. The hinges not making a single creak as I pushed the doors open, just enough to slip through them, and shut it behind me.

I waited until my eyes adjusted to the dark.

The rubber of the soles of my shoes fell soundlessly on the floor boards. Each step holding a practiced ease and the footsteps exactly placed as I jumped, crouched and twisted, almost like a dance, so as to not activate the traps I knew were placed.

When I was only a few feet from where he was placed, I took out my bike keys and dropped them, the noise immediately grabbing his attention.

"Who's there?" He called out, his eyes squinting, trying to make out my shape.

"Hush!" I whisper yelled, before rushing to his side. "Keep quiet. I'm here to free you. Now, I'm going to cut the ropes, try not to move much."

As I began working on the ropes, his eyes never drifted away from my form.

"Thank you, Thank you so much," he whispered.

_That's how people work. When they are driven by fear of death, they will grasp at any chance of survival. It is in their last moments that their true character shows, right along with the cowardice. Isn't it funny that I would know a person better than any of friends did? Because trust me, everyone pretends to be someone they are not in front of their family._

As I cut the final rope free, he stood up from his chair and stretched, wriggling his arms and legs.

"I'm Peter, from the FBI what's your name?" I asked even though I knew the answer.

"Dennis. Thank you, Peter. But how did you find me?" He asked.

"Our team has been tracking him for ages. He calls himself 'The Thirst' and he's a psychopath."

"So, I take it you've caught him."

"Of course we have, Denny. I wouldn't be here if that weren't the case. Do you see that light, straight ahead?"

"Yes."

"Go there, the door is just beyond it and my men are waiting outside I have to search here for evidence. You can manage right?"

"Of course, sir. Thank you again."

_Do you see that? How he goes on thanking me? He thinks he's escaped. He thinks that I can be caught, even if I were to be caught, do you think an officer can just walk into my den without any harm and take him away? Do you think that there's even a 0.1% chance that I would let him go just like that? That I would not make a final stand? That you can catch me unless I want you to?_

He jumps a few times before sprinting towards the door.

Right where I stood, there's a chain switch, which switched on the LED above when I pulled it.

Just as the light flicked on, he noticed the wires in his path. He had too much momentum and couldn't stop himself before the crashed into the electric wires.

His body fell to the ground, twitching, like he had seizures. He out a low groan of pain.

I laughed.

_Hope: To cherish a desire with anticipation; To desire wit expectation of fulfilment. It's an interesting word. Not everyone has it._

_There are seven billion people on this planet. And half of them live below poverty line with less than 2.5$ per day._

_What would you do if you were one of them? Can you survive? Will you have hope? When all is lost, will you wait for someone like me? Some one who might be your tormentor, but also the one who relieves you from the torment? Or will you kill yourself? Choose carefully. At least then your death will serve a purpose. It will sate their bloodlust. Temporarily._

I walked to his prone form and sat down next to him.

"It makes you dizzy, doesn't it? It's like you can't feel or move anything. There was exactly 48 milli amperes of current flowing through that wire. More than 50 milli amperes would have killed you." I sighed. "Hold on for a while, okay? If you don't, it will be another whole lot of mess. I'll have to plan, again. Find an other person, again. Do another act. It will take long, I don't want to waste your death and I currently don't have that much patience and if you die, it will make me angry. And an angry me, well, let's not talk about that, ok?"

I looked at his face again only to notice that he'd fallen unconscious.

"Damn you, Dennis! I worked on that speech! And you didn't even bother to listen to it completely!"

I dragged him to the rubber sheathed electric bed that lay near the wall and strapped his appendages and head to the bed.

Then I dragged a movable table to the bed side and began arranging all the tools I required on a tray placed on it. I also gathered a couple buckets filled with water and some empty bins. I donned on blue coloured rubber gloves and then, switched on the surgical lights and woke him up.

"I'm angry with you, Dennis!" I said as he woke up. "Is that your real name or did you lie?"

"It's my real name." He replied before he could process his surroundings. As he took notice that he was strapped to a bed and the tools that lay beside, he began to struggle against the binds.

"As I said," I spoke softly, "I'm really angry with you. I had prepared the whole pre-torture speech, but you didn't even listen to it completely. Bad manners Dennis. Is that what your mother taught you?"

"Don't speak about my mother!" He hissed.

"Someone's getting offended! Mommy's boy are you? So was I. Until I got kidnapped and she was born. Do you want to know who? I'll tell you anyway. My sister Estelle was born. She stole my mom from me. So I killed her." I finished with a smile.

I turned to take a pair of tweezers from the tray.

"Please, please, I'll do anything. I'll give you whatever you want. Don't hurt me."

"But Dennis, to get what I want, I have to hurt you. Now shut the fuck up and let me do my work."

I gripped his big toe with one hand and held its nail with the tweezers. Then, I pulled.

He screamed and I let him.

Slowly,the nail began to come out leaving blood and tissue in its trail.

I dropped the nail into one of the bins and moved to his head. I was sure, a cold smile graced my face as I said, "Hush, now. We've just begun. We have the whole night, almost seven hours to go. And I wouldn't worry about losing conscience from the pain, I have taken," I pause to let it sink in, "Precautions. You will feel every bit of pain and will scream until your throat is raw and can't even whimper anymore."

Then I took a pair of scissors and cut off that toe.

His screams of pain gave me an immense sensation of glee.

I picked up one of the daggers that lay on the tray and twirled between my digits before stabbing his left ankle.

I could hear the crunch of bones as the dagger cut through the joint.

It was sweet, sweet music to my ears.

I gripped his face and made a cut down his face beginning at his forehead, dragging the dagger till it cut past his eyes and lips till his neck.

He whimpered and spoke through the pain, "Please, stop. I'll tell you anything!"

"Anything?" I enquired curiously.

"Anything." He promised.

"Why do you think I am torturing you, Dennis?" I asked the question in the way I would if I were asking about the weather.

"Because you want to know who my father is."

I scoffed. I didn't know anything about him except his name, fears and daily routine. I didn't need anything else to kidnap him, but I decided to play along.

"Well then, who would that be?"

"I'm a demigod son of Apollo, god of heal-"

"You're a demigod?"

"Yes! Let me g-"

"That means you'll be healing at a much faster rate than a normal demigod because of your dad, and your rate of healing will be entirely exceptional compared to mortal's. That's why you can speak through your pain now!" I exclaimed, my mind racing. "And considering how much I hate them, Dennis, you just gave me the best news you could have! We are going to have so much fun!"

It was almost three by the time I stepped back to admire my handiwork.

My clothes were soaked in blood and my arms appeared to have bathed in blood until my elbows.

All of his digits lay inside a ziplock bag along with one of his eye, which was nailed to his pelvic bone.

His left ankle almost completely hanging off his leg, barely held together by a few tendons.

His entire body was drenched in blood, sweat, vomit and piss. I could still see the tear tracks on his face. He smelled utterly revolting.

His face held a deep cut that ran from his forehead to his chin running over his existent eye and lips.

Not a sound came out of his lips. He'd given up hours ago.

He was still conscious, still able to process everything I was telling him. So I spoke,

"You know, I have to be at least little creative in the way I kill you cause I chose tho classic for your torture. But before the finale," I took a glass bottle from the table and opened its lid, the fumes almost making me cough, and continued in a sad voice, "I'm sorry, Dennis, I lied to you, my name is not Peter, it's Percy. And I'm a demigod too. I have nothing against them, just the gods. And if you didn't guess already, I'm The Thirst, and I'm going to Quench it." Then I poured the acid into the space where his eye used to rest.

I didn't expect the scream that followed.

Later that morning when I was long gone, it rained, washing away the stench of death that soaked that place.

And a black garbage bag was found on the bank of the Hudson River.

It's contents?

A mutilated body.

_Blood and gore. Human life always seems to revolve around it. Wars are always a part of the history of every country. Of course, they chose peace at the end. Then, they brought in movies. The bloodier, the better; Evil dead, Frontier(s), Laid to rest, the list goes on. People crave it. Some just watch, I want to feel. Is it wrong?_

**I'm done with the longest chapter I've written so far.**

**I did plan on extending the torture scene, but then I thought you might get bored and all that, should I put in more details?**

**I don't have an entire idea about where this is going, but we'll see.**

**Like it? Hate it? Let me know!**

**Did you see what I did? The thirst getting quenched? Hehe.**

**NOTE: I DO NOT OWN THE PJO/HOO SERIES. THE CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINE BUT THE PLOT IS!**


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